An Apple a Day
by hollow echos
Summary: An apple a day keeps the doctor away - or so little Jimmy clung to when he was recovering from Tarsus. He's grown older, but the nightmares still haunt him. McCoy has finally noticed the obsession with apples and is asking about it. Pairing: Bones/Kirk.
1. Scars on the Soul

**Author's Note:** This fic was written for a prompt on the Tarsus IV community on Live Journal.

Prompt: Kirk/Bones. An apple a day keeps the doctor away - or so little Jimmy clung to when he was recovering from Tarsus. He wanted out of the hospital and away from all those too-kind and pitying nurses and doctors, dammit! Now, however, he's pretty much stuck with McCoy for life - and Bones has asked what is up with his obsession with apples

This is one of my many firsts for me. First Challenge fic, first adventure into the Star Trek fandom, and first slash as well. I hope you enjoy it! And most importantly, a HUGE shout out to phoenix_laugh, my amazing beta who made this all possible! Truthfully, she took a very rough piece and rendered it into something polished. Another shout out goes to Rusting Roses, who did drew me into the Star Trek fandom and encouraged me every step of the way.

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**An Apple a Day**

Chapter 1 – Scars on the Soul

"Bones, you coming for dinner?" Jim asked, leaning against the doorway as he leveled a questioning stare at McCoy, an eyebrow raised.

McCoy looked up from the data pad on his desk with a haggard expression. He had his chin propped on one of his hands and was sloppily hunched over his desk. It'd been a very, very long day. "I thought we were meeting in thirty minutes?"

Jim let a small smirk cross his face, trust Bones to get wrapped up in his work. "Actually, it was thirty minutes_ ago_."

McCoy shook his head, "Sorry, I had three surgeries today, must've lost track of time. There was a-"

"Fire on the lower engineering deck," Jim finished for him, his voice becoming a bit more somber, "I'm usually kept pretty aware of these things, being the captain and all."

"Yeah, two of them were critical when they came in, it's been touch and go all day with them," he said as he finished his note in the medical chart he was working on and turned his data pad off. He stood up, cracked his back, and joined Jim at the door, the two walking down to the mess together.

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Jim went down the food line, picking a little bit of a few different foods to put on his plate. When he got to the end of the line where the fresh fruit was set out in a bowl, he paused for a moment with his hand over a citrus fruit from one of the worlds they had recently visited. His eyes flashed toward the ceiling as he thought for a moment, unconsciously opting for the apple as he set it on the edge of the tray and headed over to join Bones at one of the booths against the wall.

McCoy paused between forkfuls of pasta to watch Jim sit down with him, "Did you come down here to wait for me when I was running late?"

Jim had, in fact, been sitting down here for most of that period of thirty minutes. He'd kept half of his attention on the entrance, hoping to see McCoy enter. When that hadn't happened he'd passed the time sitting with a few of his crew members, asking them how their jobs and off duty periods were going. He tried to make it a personal goal to check in with his crew every chance he got, not only was it good for crew morale for him to mingle with them, but he also took their suggestions to heart. One of the men he'd sat down with had mentioned in passing that the recreation area on deck three had been extremely crowded as of late. On his way up to fetch Bones he'd called the activities coordinator and asked him to look into maybe expanding the recreation area. Having a happy crew was one of the secrets to having a team that worked cohesively in times of crisis. They had to view this ship as their home and their shipmates as their family, it had to be something worth fighting to preserve and protect.

And Bones was a part of that family, perhaps even more so considering the relationship they had slowly forged since their time in the academy. He was something special. He examined the exhaustion evident in his partner's eyes; he'd worked hard to save the lives of some of his men today. Somehow, the last thing he needed was to make McCoy feel guilty for doing that. Thirty minutes and a small harmless lie was a small price to pay to preserve the sense of pride that the man had in his work.

Jim shook his head, "I got caught up too, Spock and I got to chatting when he came to relieve me. We were going over some of our security protocols for when crew members go planet side for shore leave."

McCoy nodded at this, a sense of relief evident in the way his shoulders seemed to relax a bit. "Good. That's good. I don't mean to run late, it was just…"

"A busy day. We both seemed to have that today," he reached over and squeezed his friend's shoulder lightly, "Don't worry about it, really. We're here now, it's fine. How's the pasta?"

"Oh, a little dry. But we're on a spaceship, ingredients don't exactly come fresh. The cooks perform miracles making this stuff edible considering the materials they usually start with," he said, taking another bite full of his food, "And how's your…apple?"

Jim stopped playing with the fruit that he had been spinning in his hand, taking that moment to take a large mouthful, swallowing before answering, "Fresh," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

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The next morning found Jim cracking his eyes open as he slammed a hand down on his alarm. He rolled over to notice that McCoy wasn't next to him. Bones was a verifiable workaholic, he was probably already debriding burn wounds, evaluating any new patients that were admitted overnight, or doing paperwork.

With a groan Jim sat up, scrubbed at his eyes to clear the blurriness and walked over the closet, grabbing a fresh shirt and sliding it over his head. He made a quick trip to the mirror to ruffle his hair a bit, smooth down the cowlick or two that had formed during the night, and then sat down on his side of the bed once more, pulling a calendar out of the bedside table. It was a _real _calendar, paper and everything instead of the electronic versions that dominated life on the Enterprise. He handled it gently, appreciating it for the relic it was as he gently ran a finger over the torn and bent edges. Despite his best efforts over the years to preserve its quality, time hadn't been kind to it. There was the odd water stain that left a rough, wrinkled pattern on all of the pages in the lower left hand corner, for example. It was a testament to the time he had hastily discarded his rain boots on the floor after a day of romping in the rain and racing paper boats with his friends. When he'd returned from dinner there'd been a puddle rimming the boots and the calendar, which had somehow migrated to beneath his bed, had taken water damage from it.

He opened it, the calendar naturally flipping open to a specific page, the page that he had opened it to so many times that the binding seemed to have memorized the process. The top portion of the calendar was a peaceful picture, one of many of the wheat fields on Tarsus IV just before the twin set of suns sunk below the horizon, bathing the fields in a golden glow that didn't reflect the harsh reality of what had occurred. They should be red, red for all the blood that had soaked into that soil as starving citizens had yanked plants up, roots and all, hastily shoving them into sacks and running off with their precious loot as they competed for the limited food supplies .

There were X's through most of the days in the first part of the month, the days where he'd had the time to look at the calendar each morning as a child, counting down until school was out for the year. And then the X's became more sporadic, occurring every few days. School had ended early that year and the time he might have casually spent looking at how many days had passed was channeled into vital efforts. Like standing in line for food rations, or huddling under a table and shuddering every time a gun fired outside, starvation had a way of bringing out the worst in people very quickly. And eventually, those X's had reached a point where they'd died out all together. He'd gone back later on and circled one particular day, the day that had stripped him of any notion he may have had that the world was mostly a good place.

He ran his finger along the hard red line he'd drawn around one the box of one particular date. Tomorrow was the day, and he just knew he'd be angry and sullen and withdrawn as those memories raced through his mind like the events had happened yesterday. You don't forget the first mass slaughter you see, the protests of people being rounded up for execution, struggling against blank faced soldiers. The memories had never left him. And tomorrow, even the barrier he had put up between himself and those memories wouldn't stop their onslaught. Just one more day before that barrier would lapse; he thought as he slid the calendar back into its drawer and headed down to the mess. God, life would be so much easier if he'd never heard of Tarsus IV, never lived there. Tarsus IV and the associated memories that kept that planet forever carved into his psyche like a scar on his soul.

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Kirk entered the mess, quickly skimming the selection of foods that failed to appeal to him before he quickly reached the end of the options, dipping his hand into the fruit bowl and grabbing a pair of apples. He stopped off to fill his glass with water to get rid of the dry feeling in his mouth, he always woke up thirsty. McCoy told him it was because he drooled a bit, but Jim truly believed that Bones was just a bit bitter about Jim having left a little drool on his pillow on one or two occasions. It's not like he meant to do it, and to be fair, McCoy snored and Jim never used that against him.

He shook his head, what a pair they made. Jim threw one of the apples up in the air and caught it, repeated the motion as he exited the mess and headed up toward the bridge.

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McCoy entered the room with a yawn, throwing his uniform jacket over the back of a chair, walking over to the bed and falling down on it face first as he exhaled a sigh. Long days and short nights seemed to be his life as of late. He cared for his patients, if you asked some people they'd tell you he cared about them a little too much. He made it personal and a select few members of his staff gave him grief about it, a CMO couldn't be getting upset every time a heart monitor stopped beeping and a patient was moved into the morgue. It put him in an emotional state that could compromise him when he moved onto the next patient. But he also couldn't afford to _not _get involved. Getting involved made him work harder to save every life, because it wasn't just the body of another random person he was working on, it was the life of a shipmate, a coworker, a friend that he was trying to save. And that made it worth the kinks in his back gained from hours spent hovering over a surgery he could've easily passed to one of his subordinates hours before and gone home to Jim instead. But Jim got it, he viewed his crew with the same protective ferocity, and he never wavered in his undying dedication to each and every person that lived on this ship, it was one of the things that made the relationship work. They could afford for the other to be late and would patiently wait in the room, kicked back with a good book, or maybe flipping through a patient's chart, in McCoy's case.

With a groan, he rolled over and sat up. No, McCoy wasn't sorry for the hours he put in. His eyes were drawn to the desk near the door and he frowned a bit. Well, there wasn't much about putting in those hours that he didn't like. But there were things that bothered him about it, the things he missed in Jim's life as a result.

Like the new addition he had just spotted sitting next to the lamp, a bowl. He got up and walked over to it, a little curious, Jim wasn't normally one for interior decorating and they were the only two people that ever came in here. He reached down into the bowl and pulled out an apple. Now why on Earth…McCoy smiled a bit at that. No, they weren't on Earth any more. He hadn't had a foot on solid Earth soil in awhile and that saying had a bit less relevance out here in the vacuum of space.

He opened his hand and let the apple roll off his palm and back into the bowl with the other seven or eight, making a mental reminder to ask Jim about them later. He then turned and headed for the shower. It was time to wash away a very, very long work shift before meeting Jim for dinner; he would be on time tonight.

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Bones frowned at the food on his partner's plate, which wasn't nearly what the man needed to keep himself going on the schedule he put himself through on a daily basis.

"Jim, usually you eat everything but the plate. What's with the lack of an appetite?"

Kirk raised an eyebrow, "I'm eating," he said, holding up the fruit, "is an apple all of a sudden not real food?"

Bones shook his head, "One apple does not make a meal."

Kirk shrugged, "Then I'll eat two, will that make you happy mother?"

Bones scowled, he loved the man, but him and his sarcasm, there'd never be an end to it. "Far from it Jim, you didn't eat much last night either. And now that I'm looking for it, you're looking a little bit more haggard than normal. You been feeling ok?"

"I'm _fine _Bones. You're always harping on me to stop eating so much meat, that I should be an omnivore instead of a carnivore and incorporate in some fruits and vegetables. Now you're changing your mind? Would you rather I go for the steak?"

Bones nodded, "Actually, that would do a lot toward easing my worries. I'd much rather you be acting like yourself. You might eat _badly _most of the time, but at least it's eating. The last thing I need is for you to show up in my infirmary because you're suffering malnourishment."

Jim suddenly looked away for a moment. That hadn't been the answer he was expecting and how he had to figure out a way out of this…His mind flashed back to a time when one apple was a blessing that he would've given anything for. A time when canned food a year past its expiration date was acceptable, even if you puked half of it up later. Keeping half a can down was worth the suffering. He ran a hand down along his chest; feeling for the ribs he knew wouldn't be protruding like they had back then, before they'd finally been rescued. He and sighed as he tried to come up with something.

McCoy watched him with his head cocked to the side, waiting for some sort of response. Something was definitely off.

Finally looking up, Jim responded, "Look, I'm not hungry. Deal with it; I'm not forcing myself to eat something that doesn't look appealing. Just leave it alone Bones, I'm sure I'll have my appetite back in a few days."

"Damn it, Jim, this is not ok!" He roughly pushed his plate toward his partner, "Eat something, I don't care what it is, but this is _not _ok, and something is wrong and you're not telling me! So put aside the bullshit and tell me what's wrong," he finished, his voice a threatening whisper. He was angry and it was taking most of his self-restraint to avoid raising his voice and causing a scene. That was the last thing the two of them needed, the rest of the crew in the mess seeing two of the senior staff onboard going for each other's throats.

Jim sighed and opened his mouth to say something when he was cut off by a chirp.

Bones jumped a bit at the sudden intrusion and grabbed his communicator a little rougher than he probably needed to. He did answer the call though, wanting to be done with it and back to his conversation with Jim as quickly as possible, "This is Dr. McCoy."

"_Dr. McCoy, we were just contacting you because of the note you left in this patient's chart. It's Kolgen, we were setting up the dermal regenerator for his next round of therapy but an infection seems to have taken root on his arm."_

Bones sighed; this was the last thing he needed right now, "How far has the infection spread?"

"_His arm is swollen from the elbow down and we're getting a mucus discharge from a few spots on the arm. Do you want to us to start debriding?"_

Damn it. He needed to finish this conversation, "No, not yet. I'm on my way down. Get a surgical prep going; I'll be down to help with the procedure."

"_Ok, sir. We'll be ready."_

McCoy clipped the communicator back to his belt and pushed his chair out, standing up. He looked down at the plate that he had pushed toward Jim; the man hadn't touched it. "I have to go Jim, but don't think this conversation is over, we'll be picking it right back up when I get back to the room tonight."

Jim didn't respond, just gave a weak nod, still not looking up from the untouched plate of food.

Bones shook his head, softening his tone a bit this time, "And for god's sake Jim, eat something, please." He threw one more look at the half-eaten apple in Jim's hand, "something that isn't an apple."

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	2. Shadows Cast

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**An Apple a Day**

Chapter 2 – Shadows Cast

Bones had finished his surgery and was in his office adding a few more notes to his patient's chart before heading back up to his room for the night. He stopped typing as an icon on his screen started blinking, a reminder on his calendar. He clicked it and scanned the message, it was a reminder to get any medical supplies he needed onto the manifest that the team would take with them when they docked at the space station tomorrow to trade. That was something he definitely needed to do, he was dangerously low on a few of his supplies. He also needed to order a few new boosters for Jim. The man was allergic to most mainstream medications and treating him was like walking on a tight rope, a careful balance between maintaining the captain's health and making sure to not give him anything he was allergic to.

He opened the list and began entering the items he would like obtained if they were in stock. He froze for a moment as he scanned the list; Jim's name was there, which was odd, he almost never requested anything to be brought back from trading missions. He was all about living frugally. Bones clicked on the name, curious to see what his partner had requested. There was only one item and it made his face darken into a scowl. Apples. What was with the sudden obsession? This had gone far enough. He closed his log entry and roughly pushed his chair back, standing up and stalking off toward his room to finish the conversation they had started earlier. If he had to drag it out of Jim, force him to share what was bothering him, he would, damn it! He understood that Jim liked his privacy, and on most occasions he would give it to him. But not when it was affecting him in such a pronounced manner, not when, whatever that secret was, it was chipping away at the man he loved.

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Kirk was currently heaving the contents of his breakfast, his lunch, and probably a good portion of his dinner into the toilet. His body contorted as the muscles in his stomach contracted and more bile came up. When he finished this round, the latest in a slew, he released his shaky grasp on the edge of the toilet, the only thing that had kept him upright, and weakly slumped back down to the ground where he curled up in a ball and moaned weakly, hands gripped tightly around his midsection in an effort to still the pain.

But he knew it was right, to be here like this on this particular night. It was necessesary; it was his penance for everything that had happened on that planet. His own way of remembering what happened , to relive the memories he had associated with it. For the rest of the year he kept them buried in the furthest recesses of his mind. The only time they slipped through the cracks was when something triggered a flashback. Starving refugees rescued from a planet, the infirmary, and sometimes the most random triggers of all that he never could anticipate. But he had also practiced not getting caught up in them even when they did occur. He might have a blank expression on his face for a few moments as he waited for the living skeletons, bony hands and feet, to stop flickering in and out, but he didn't flinch like he used to, he didn't start hyperventilating. No, he was a captain now and there wasn't room to be weak. The crew needed a leader and he was it.

Tarsus IV. The longest shadow ever cast. He'd been halfway across the galaxy and still it trailed in his wake, the skeletons marched along through all of the millions of miles he'd travelled since. Flesh pasted to bone with no muscle in between. He sighed but didn't banish the memories as he usually did. There was one day a year he uncapped the lid on that box and let them swirl like a tempest through his brain, to remember the horrors, the mistakes, the people lost.

He let out an involuntary wince as his stomach warned him that it wasn't done protesting as he quickly rose back up to his adopted position over the toilet. No, he had left Tarsus IV physically long ago, but that didn't mean all of him had left it. Weight hadn't been the only thing he'd lost on Tarsus IV.

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McCoy keyed the door open and entered quietly. He didn't raise the lights; if Jim was asleep he supposed they could talk first thing in the morning. The physician part of him recalled that the man had looked terrible and some more sleep could probably do him good. He silently crossed the room and went to lie down on the bed, but even in the dark he could see that it was still made, causing his expression to darken further. Where had Jim gotten off to now?

He was about to hail him on the radio before he heard a sound coming from the bathroom, which struck him as a bit odd considering the door was open. Before he even realized it he was past the bed and to the bathroom, flipping on the light and his eyes widening as he saw Jim on the ground.

He was crouching down in an instant and trying to roll his partner over and assess the man's status. He shouldn't have left Jim alone, he knew there had been something wrong, he should've given the debriding to someone else and followed Jim back.

McCoy put his hand against his partner's face, noting that it was pasty and sweaty as he directed Jim's gaze up to meet his own, "Jim, what's wrong?"

The only response he got was a groan, "Damn it Jim! Stay there, I'll be back," he said even as he was on his feet and going out into the bedroom, quickly snatching his spare med case from the closet before returning to the bathroom. He pulled out his tricorder and began evaluating his patient's condition.

His frown deepened, while there was indication of elevated heart rate and endorphins signaling a stress response, he wasn't drunk, he didn't have a fever. So what was wrong?

"Jim, did you take anything?" He wanted to make sure Jim hadn't taken anything, something that might not have registered on the tricorder readout, before conducting a further examination.

"No…I'm ok Bones," Kirk said weakly, shaking his head, "Just leave me alone, go to bed."

Bones released a sound that was best described as a growl as he prepared a hypo and administered it to Jim's jugular vein without asking.

Jim muttered a curse under his breath. He hated hypos. They always bruised and the staff always assumed the battle wounds from a scuffle with Bones in the infirmary were hickeys from his widely exaggerated sexual exploits.

When Jim didn't respond Bones jumped back in, "Last time I checked the inability to stand of your own volition is not ok. In fact, it's several miles off base from that. When you're ok I don't usually have to administer anti-nausea medication to you either."

"Would 'a had me fooled Bones…the way you like to chase me around with those things," Jim muttered weakly.

McCoy helped pull Jim up into a sitting position, leaning him against the side of the tub before he himself sank down into a sitting position, legs crossed.

"Bones, really, go to bed. This bathroom isn't really big enough for a two person party tonight."

McCoy raised his eyebrow at this, "Really? Because you certainly are singing a different tune when you spontaneously assault me in the shower on the mornings when the recreation from the previous night wasn't enough for your sexual appetite."

Jim managed to prevent himself from keeling back over sideways, steadying himself with one hand on the tub wall as a small smile flitted across his face before disappearing beneath a more somber expression.

"Bones, what do you want? Don't I look like I'm in enough misery without going a round of twenty questions?"

"I want to know what's bothering you and why you're acting so strangely. The sudden obsession with apples to start maybe? I saw that you put them on the manifest for the supply team to bring back from the space station if they're available to trade. What'd you do, finish up whatever supply the cooks had in the kitchen?"

Jim gave a weak shrug but maintained his silence on the issue.

McCoy busied himself for a moment by packing up his med kit again before his hand brushed against something sitting next to his med kit. He picked it up and flicked an angry expression between the empty bowl and Jim.

"God Jim, how many of these did you eat? There were almost ten apples in here!"

Another passive shrug from Jim, like a reaction a guilty child would give when caught in the act of something they really shouldn't be doing, like dismissing it would make the problem go away.

"Jim, I'm serious here. All of them? Too much of anything can be really bad for you. If you've eaten all of these you've earned yourself a night in the infirmary."

"No," he said as he produced a few from the other side of the toilet, rolling two of them over to Bones on the ground. Their oblong shape made them roll at a skewed angle as they rolled against Bones' leg.

"That still leaves most of them unaccounted for. What is this about Jim? What's with the apples?"

He finally looked at Bones, "You know what they say, Bones. 'An apple a day…'"

"'Keeps the doctor away…' It's an old saying from Earth," McCoy finished, getting a bit worked up now, "Is this about keeping me away in some sick way? Did I do something to get you angry at me?"

Jim sat up a bit straighter and he focused his gaze completely on the man in front of him. And then it clicked. Bones' profession…he could see how the man could've misinterpreted it. And crap, that wasn't what he had intended at all. This wasn't about his partner at all and in getting so wrapped up in his own woes he'd completely disregarded what this was doing to McCoy, "Bones…of course not! What could you have possibly done wrong here?"

"I don't know Jim! I have no idea what's going on. Feel free to clue me in any time now, I'd love to be enlightened as to what exactly 'this' is."

Jim looked down at the final apple that he held in his hand. He held it up and took a bite out of it, the flavor turning his stomach, begging to be spit out. He clamped his jaw and swallowed, involuntarily shuddering a bit.

"Damn it Jim! Stop that!" McCoy rose into a crouch and moved over to take the apple away from him. This had gone on too long already.

But Jim simply held it back over the tub, not willing to surrender it. With the other hand he pushed Bones back and shook his head.

McCoy pinned him with a steely expression, a mixture of anger for Jim purposefully abusing himself like this and confusion and frustration at being blocked out like this boiling inside him. He wanted nothing more than to confiscate that apple, but assaulting Jim probably was going to get him more worked up, more combative, and much less likely to open up about whatever was bothering him. Against his every instinct, McCoy settled back down into a sitting position as he sat there, silent, waiting for Jim to say something.

Jim brought the fruit back into his lap, spinning it around but not eating anymore, just looking at it, rolling it in his hand, "I hate apples, Bones. The taste makes me sick."

Bones waited for a further explanation, but when none came he was reduced to trying to prompt Jim, "Then why eat them?"

"It's penance, Bones."

"What possible crime could you be paying for by eating your own weight in fruit?"

"Surviving."

"Jim, I think we're on two different wavelengths here. I need more than four words to let me see this from whatever angle you are, to see what's bothering you so much."

"Ever heard of Tarsus IV?"

McCoy nodded, "Who hasn't? Everyone reads about that horror show at some point in a history textbook. I've learned a bit more than I would probably have liked, it's used as a model in medical school for what happens after exposure to prolonged starvation. That's not even taking into account the other atrocities that went on…" his voice trailed off as a shudder went through his body this time, there were some things that he just didn't want to dwell on, genocide among them.

Jim bit his lip, "Yeah, we all know it in one form or another I suppose. Different forms for different people…"

"Why'd you bring it up Jim?"

"Survival, Bones. That's what it was about down there. Half of the population down there, they didn't even have a chance at that. Kodos made a speech and wiped out all those people without a second thought. And the rest of the population, they fought over everything. Scraps of food, hell, domesticated animals got eaten. You might turn your dog out one night in the yard and you'd hear an aggressive bark, the kind they gave off when there was a stranger. Then maybe a gunshot followed by silence. And you didn't have to looking for the bloodstain. You _knew. _Come morning Rover or Spot would be sitting on a plate in chunks instead of sitting by your side_._"

"God, Jim. Is this what you've been thinking about these past few days? Grim stuff like this, why are you torturing yourself with stuff like this? Tarsus happened, Jim. We all cringe when we hear about it for the first time…but to dwell on it, that's a good way to really mess yourself up."

"We don't all have a choice…Sometimes thing just stay with you when you survive. The ghosts cling to you. In a strange way, carrying them about with me, thinking about them – it's like a piece of them lives on in me, maybe the life they were robbed of."

"And why is this your burden to carry, huh?"

Jim cocked his head, as if the answer was the most natural thing in the world, "Because I survived it Bones."

"Tarsus IV?"

Jim didn't respond, but he nodded.

"You were there?"

McCoy's shoulders sagged as Jim nodded again. No wonder the kid was messed up...who wouldn't be? But why now all of a sudden? Jim had cast his gaze downward again and Bones decided to give him a few moments to gather his thoughts after a revelation this large. Jim didn't share information about his past often, and on the rare glimpses McCoy did get, he more often than not didn't like what he saw. Evidence of child abuse came to mind, but he never prodded Jim about the skeletons in his closet, figuring he'd open up in his own time as their relationship grew.

He realized he was sitting on something, real paper, hell that had to be old. He lifted his weight off of the crumpled object and held it up for inspection. It was a calendar; a single day was circled in red. He flipped to the front to see the year 2246. That date was from somewhere…Tarsus IV. Jim was leading him in circles and it seemed that every loop led back to the events on that planet. He flipped back to the month it had been open to when he'd picked it up. It was today's date…

"It's the anniversary of the genocide on Tarsus IV, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Four thousand people died."

Bones nodded solemnly, perhaps beginning to understand the issue at hand, "And you survived…"

"Something like that."

"And the apples?"

"That came afterwards. I was skin and bones when I came off that planet, we all were. I was in the hospital for awhile. It was…a bad experience. 'Feeding tube shoved up my nose and down my throat' bad."

McCoy winced involuntarily. He knew the procedure, and it wasn't pleasant for the patient or the physician if the patient didn't want it. He could hardly imagine that a child with an independent streak would sit quietly for something like that. He was also starting to get a picture of why Jim wasn't fond of the infirmary or staying there unless Bones threatened sedation in response to escape attempts. "I'm sorry, Jim. If you were rough-handled they did it wrong. They should've knocked you out for something that invasive, especially as a child."

Jim shrugged and looked away, "There were thousands of people just like me Bones, all of us needed help and I can look back and understand them not having the time to comfort a startled child. There was an urgency to process everyone. I was just another person who escaped the body count, another person to ensure the survival of before they moved onto the next one in a seemingly endless line."

"You are _not _just a person that defied a body count. Look at what you've done in your time in Starfleet!" McCoy was perfectly willing to listen to Jim talk; it was cathartic for both of them, but he would not put up with the self-flagellation that Jim was so fond of. "And those medical personnel, they should have made the time," he added, finishing much softer, "I would've if I'd been there. You were a child."

Jim nodded again, still spinning the apple in his hand.

"And the apples come in where?"

"It's stupid, I know it is. But I was a kid and that was something my mom always used to tell me when she was around. And I guess I thought it would really work. They eventually took the feeding tube out and I started eating them all the time. I guess in my mind I connected the two events, eating apples with getting the doctors off my back. It was nice not to have the the threat of that feeding tube being put back in hovering over my head."

"I'm with you so far, but why the apple binge now?"

"You eat enough of them, and you're sick of them. After I was out of the hospital, I didn't eat an apple for a year. And then Tarsus IV came around again on the calendar and it just…happened. I guess I do it to make myself remember it. So that it stays real. People died there, friends even, Bones. I can't forget them just because I survived. Someone has to remember them."

McCoy had scooted over next to Jim now, settling an arm around his shoulders, using the physical contact to ground Jim, to let him know that he didn't have to be alone in this. Bones was glad Jim didn't shrink away. "Eating them until you're sick, that's not honoring their memory. That's a guilt impulse, Jim. And it's not something that you should be feeling. Or if it is, we need to talk about it because you shouldn't. By some miracle you made it off that rock in one piece and you're here today because of it. That's something to celebrate…not something to beat yourself up about by making yourself relive one of the most traumatic events of your life every year." He finished by plucking the final apple from Jim's hand and throwing it out into the hallway. Good riddance. He saw that Jim's eyes were following the arc of the fruit, but he was satisfied and relieved to see that his partner made no effort to retrieve it.

"So what now?" Jim asked quietly, "I'm not going to just forget them Bones…Every year, it's important to remember everyone who wasn't lucky enough to make it off that rock, the ones who died by Kodos' decree or by starvation."

"If it's important to you, then we'll honor them in a way that's healthy. But no more apples. God, I'm not going to let them bring any of those onto the ship for awhile. And before you protest, that is not up for debate. That's my decision as your physician. Having them onboard is not going to help you get over this."

"What does that leave? No one thinks about them anymore. The survivors, we're scattered all over the place and most of the ones I've met don't want to talk about it at all."

"That's common for survivors of an incident like this, bringing it back up is traumatic…"

"I'm not burying the memories if that's what you're suggesting. It might be easier, but it's not right. Those people…I knew them, and even the ones I didn't know personally, I know what their final hours were like and that's enough of a connection."

McCoy rubbed Jim's shoulder and squeezed gently. The motion seemed to calm Jim, a little of the tension draining out of his posture as he tilted his head over to rest on McCoy's shoulder. Bones reciprocated, leaning his head against Jim's, taking in the smell of his hair. "Do they have a memorial on Tarsus IV to commemorate the incident and honor the people who died?"

He felt Jim give a slight shrug, "I've never been back. I don't know."

"Well, then we'll put in for shore leave this time next year. Maybe a week or so off? We'll both have accrued enough vacation time by then and Spock would like nothing more than to get the command all to himself."

Jim thought about it for a moment, "Maybe…you think other survivors go back there?"

"I don't know, but this time next year, there'll be at least one there to remember it: you. And I'll be right there next to you."

Jim spoke for the final time that evening, in a quiet, humbled tone. One that bled awe for the dedication of his partner, "…Thanks, Bones."

There was no verbal response after that, just silence softly broken by the sound of their breathing in sync as they sat there side by side past the waning of the anniversary of Tarsus IV and into the next morning.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Jim slowly stretched his muscles and gave a yawn that popped both of his ears. He looked next to him, expecting Bones to be there, only to frown at the absence that once again greeted him. There was a pillow beneath his head and he was leaning up against the wall. As he pushed himself to a fully sitting position and his arms got caught in a blanket he realized someone had put that on him too. Bones, vigilant as always, he smiled. The man was downright cute sometimes, if not a bit clichéd.

He curled his toes in an effort to regain circulation; his leg had apparently fallen asleep if the pins and needles sensation was anything to go by. In the meantime he surveyed the bathroom. The calendar and bowl were gone, as were the remnant fruit from the previous night.

He eventually worked up the energy to roll over and climb to his feet, steadying himself against the wall and heading out into the bedroom. His eyes caught the glint of the light playing off a reflective surface, drawing his attention to the desk. There was a fruit basket covered with almost blindingly fluorescent decorative plastic wrap. Curious, he went over and looked at the card sitting in front of it.

_Jim-_

_I already called Spock and told him that you'd be in after lunch, so don't worry about me turning your alarm off. I knew you'd find it in your heart to forgive me for such a grave transgression. But the CMO in me thought you could use the sleep. Take a few hours to relax, you've earned it._

_-Leonard _

_P.S. – An apple a day will not keep the doctor away. I'm not that easy to get rid of, kid. Meet me here for dinner tonight, right when you get off (i.e. don't be late!). I'm planning a little something ;)_

Jim gently refolded the letter and set it down as he unwrapped the basket. There were a variety of fruits in it, and he couldn't help but let a grin creep across his face as he noticed the conspicuous absence of apples.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O


End file.
